


Butterflies In My Stomach

by JaspineApple



Series: Villain Wilbur [5]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Blood As Lube, M/M, Sadism, Violence, Vomit, Wound Fucking, cumming inside, mind breaking, still very non con though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 13:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30056517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaspineApple/pseuds/JaspineApple
Summary: Wound FuckingTrigger Warning:Read the tags !!!VomitingNon ConHard SadismMind BreakingSuicidal Idealization (only for two lines)
Relationships: Glatt/Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Series: Villain Wilbur [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134671
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Butterflies In My Stomach

**Author's Note:**

> he/him pronouns for Glatt this time around

Despite the ghost’s screaming and begging and struggle, Wilbur continued forward. It was an idea he’s had for a while, and he didn’t feel like putting it off again. And Wilbur _really_ didn’t like hurting his pet, but some times he had to give Glatt a light smack. Just enough so that Glatt would stop his squirming and begging. It was really getting on Wilbur’s nerves. 

Eventually, though, Glatt did stop his moving. The crying didn’t stop, but that wasn’t so bad. Wilbur liked seeing his pale blue tears. Glatt still whimpered out small pleas, but they were ignored, as usual. Wilbur pulled off Glatt’s sweater, it would be a pain in the ass to wash. Glatt held his hands to his chest, keeping his eyes screwed shut. As if that would make Wilbur disappear. Like this was all a twisted nightmare. Wilbur laughed at the thought. 

Wilbur straddled Glatt’s waist, eyeing his cute tummy. The fur that grew there, instead of regular body hair like a human. Hybrids always fascinated Wilbur. With their ears and tails and perhaps other physical traits their animal may have. Like Glatt’s horns. 

Wilbur hummed softly and scritched the fur. Normally this calmed Glatt down, but he still refused to open his eyes. Wilbur sighed. Might as well get on with it then. Wilbur pulls his knife from his overcoat’s inner pocket. It was bigger than his trusty pocket knife. He drags the tip of the blade down between Glatt’s breasts, over his solar plexus and then finally above the belly button.

Glatt froze, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes. Wilbur sighed again, he didn’t like that very much. “Baby, hey.” He nudged Glatt’s hands away. Glatt pulled his hands away and whined, hoping Wilbur would take pity on him. But, the sadist never did. He smiled instead and plunged his knife in.

The ghost screamed on impact, grabbing at Wilbur wrist. He gripped it so tightly, it nearly hurt Will. But he didn’t mind. He just pushed the blade inside until the grip touched Glatt’s skin. Glatt let out a consistent stream of curse words and hisses of pain. Wilbur didn’t care too much about stabbing. It was too simplistic, minimal, boring. But it was fairly necessary for his next move. 

He pulls his hand away from the knife, leaving it inside Glatt. Wilbur takes a gentle hold of Glatt's hands. Their eyes meet, tears meeting a soulless stare. He kisses Glatt’s knuckles before placing the ghost’s hands down on his chest. He climbs off the ghost, keeping his eyes locked on him so he doesn’t pull out the knife. Wilbur unzips his pants and takes them off, along with his boxers.

Glatt wanted so badly to rip out the knife. He wanted to stab Wilbur in the chest. Repeatedly stabbing him, slicing him, making him suffer through it all, but he couldn't move. His body wouldn't regenerate in time, he'd be seriously hindered. And who knows what Wilbur would do to him after that? It was best if Glatt just stayed still and waited for Wilbur to get the torture over with. 

Glatt lazily watches Wilbur moves and staddle his waist again. He often thinks of them. In some other world, maybe they fell in love. Maybe Glatt didn't die, maybe they were happy, maybe they were swapped. Wilbur presses a hand to Glatt's cheek. His smile was so sweet, caring. The hand burned Glatt's skin. It fell from Glatt's cheek, fingertips dragging down his neck. They graze across grey skin, down his chest and to his stomach. 

Then, in an instant, Wilbur pulled out the knife and replaced it with his dick. He pressed all the way in, before the ghost’s body had time to pull itself together. Wilbur places his hands on Glatt's shoulders, effectively holding him down. He breathes heavily, laughs and moans. He’s dreamed of this moment since he had first taken Glatt in that forest. It was warm and so wet. Wilbur can feel the blood soak his dick and the squishy intestines.

Glatt was horrified. Paralyzed. His eyes were glued to to the scene in front of him. It was unexplainable. He felt sick, though mostly because his intestines were being squished and touched. He couldn’t utter any words. He couldn’t move by his own account. Glatts cold hands shook, eyes fixated on Wilburs chest. His thighs that straddled Glatt. His hands that had traveled over it’s torso before holding his shoulders down. And that stupid fucking smile. Glatt had grown tired of it within the first ten minutes of knowing Wilbur.

Wilbur pulled his hips up, the ghost grimaced when he sees his own blood coating Wilburs dick, and plunges right back in. Glatt would’ve screamed, but his stomach was torn. He didn’t have much strength to make it. Just throaty whines and breathing

It hurt to just breathe, the air had been stolen from his lungs. Sickness rose in the ghost’s throat as Wilbur thrusted inside him again. He doesn’t eat, so the only thing Glatt could throw up is bile. He’s done it before as Will just watched, teasing him about it even. 

Wilbur seemed lost in his own world this time though. Holding himself above Glatt, pulling out of the body before plowing right back in. His heavy breathing filled the room, replacing what would usually be Glatt’s screams and sobs. 

Surely, Glatt was going to vomit. He could feel it rise with every thrust, every push of his organs. His stomach and intestines squished together, forced to make room for Wilbur’s dick. Glatt would have tried to plead with Wilbur, but it would’ve been a waste of his breath. Wilbur never listened to his pleas to stop. 

Bile rises in Glatt’s throat. His eyes fly wide open and he tries to get up, but Wilbur’s hands are planted heavily on his shoulders. Glatt tries to swallow it, but his throat spasms and tries to close, it won’t let him. In the midst of trying to push on Wilbur’s arms, the bile rises too high. 

Glatt’s stomach tenses, squeezes itself, forcing the liquid out. Glatt can only turn his head to side and throw up the burning green liquid. He grips onto Wilbur’s forearms, grabbing the attention of him. Wilbur moves his gaze up and he grins.

His thrusts slow a bit as he watches tears fall and Glatt uncontrollably vomit up bile. The way his eyes roll back each time his stomach gives a push. How he’d suck in a breath and grimace at the acid coating the back of his throat. Wilbur notices the green soaking the white bed sheets under Glatt. He couldn’t turn his head back and his hands fell from holding Wilbur. If it wasn’t for the slow, exhausted blinking, Wilbur would have thought he passed out. He smiles sweetly and leans down to kiss Glatt’s temple softly. 

“My darling, you’re so beautiful like this.” Glatt’s eyes rolled to the side to just barely capture Wilbur’s form in his vision. They rolled back forward, watching the stone wall. He gave up on the breathing, he just accepted the pain. He was too tired to fight it. Wilbur moans, high pitched and almost pretty. Glatt would've thought so if they were in any other situation. 

“Mm, fuck. Glatt, I’m gonna cum.” Glatt sucked in a searing hot breath, eyes widening. He turns his head to look up at Wilbur. So he can maybe silently beg for Wilbur not to. Their eyes meet, Wilbur recognizing the fear in the ghost’s eyes. He smiles tiredly. 

“Oh, baby, you want me to cum inside?” Wilbur leans down, panting feverishly. Glatt notices the man’s thrusts growing more messy and out of rhythm. Despite the violent head shaking, Wilbur snickered. “Hah, yeah, you want me inside you. Inside your guts, inside your body forever, don’t you, Glatt?” The ghost missed when Wilbur called him _Schlatt_. 

Glatt gasped, trying to gather breath to speak. “N- No, no. Don’t- Please.” Wilbur chuckled breathily and watches Glatt’s face. He pulls a hand away from Glatt’s shoulder. 

“Shh, it’s okay, my love.” He wipes the bile and saliva from Glatt’s cheek before leaning down and kissing the ghost. He pushes Glatt back down into the mattress, slipping his tongue into Glatt’s mouth. He tastes the bile, taking his time to claim every bit of Glatt’s mouth, tasting behind teeth, the roof and the tongue itself. 

It’s hot, desperate, and Wilbur knows he won’t last much longer. Wilbur moans and whimpers into Glatt’s mouth. The ram lets him, finding no use in trying to squirm away or protest anymore. Wilbur pulls away for air, a string of saliva connected their close lips. 

Glatt watches Wilbur’s face contort into expressions of pleasure. He wishes it could make him feel sick again. He wishes he wasn’t so numb anymore. Quick and shallow thrusts came from the Brit before they came to a full stop. A long whine was drawn from him. Wilbur grinded against Glatt’s lower torso, trying to dig as deep as he could as he came.

Wilbur panted softly, lazily kissing Glatt’s lips before pulling out. He leans back up and admires the blood covering him, mixed with small beads of cum still dripping. Wilbur rubs Glatt’s side, knowing that Glatt’s body had gone back to regenerate what was damaged. 

Wilbur sits next to Glatt and lifts him up so he’s in a sitting position. Glatt doesn’t use any energy. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to die. He wanted to break glass and cut his throat. Break a horn and bleed out. Something that would end the ceaseless torture. 

The ghost wakes up from his thoughts when there’s a tap on his shoulder. Wilbur was holding a glass of water, Glatt had forgotten it was there. Wilbur offers a stupid, small smile and presses the rim to Glatt’s bottom lip. Hesitantly and tiredly, Glatt obliges and takes a couple of sips. 

“Good,” Wilbur mutters quietly, setting the glass back down. The warm water soothes his throat just slightly. “I’m going to go clean myself and then I’m gonna come back and clean here. You stay and heal, okay?” Glatt nods, fixating himself into his auto-pilot headspace. Obedient. Good. 

Wilbur leaves and cleans the blood from his body. He comes back into the bedroom in a new set of clothes (except his coat, of course), holding bed sheets and a wet towel. Glatt lets Wilbur clean the blood stains on his stomach and the bile smudged on his cheek. Aftercare should’ve been nice. It should feel good, make him feel safe. But Glatt could’ve argued it was the worst part.

Wilbur waits until Glatt’s wound is full healed and he can move before switching the bed sheets. “You tired?” Glatt doesn’t look at Wilbur. He just nods along. They lay down together. Wilbur didn’t usually stay with Glatt afterwards, but the ghost noticed he’s been doing it more often lately.

An arm is thrown over Glatt’s side. He can already feel himself falling asleep, accepting the night for how it went.

**Author's Note:**

> I fucking LOVE these two!! I have a long list of prompts I wanna write with them and this is my favorite one so far! I felt icky writing it a couple of times, but I got through it and I'm so proud and happy with it


End file.
